


Everything

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5820841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wizarding world was thrown into unimaginable chaos the moment the Second Wizard War ended. The population was spiraling into the ground. The only solution that they could think of... was to change the way marriage worked. </p><p>Lucius Malfoy quickly finds that his family wouldn't be allowed to find happiness with one another, as more impending change threatens their lives as they know it. </p><p>But, at least now he has a chance to right the wrongs of his past-and he plans to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a tumblr post I saw a very long time ago which analyzed the casualties of the Second Wizarding War. It was an amount that seemed small to begin with, but it would be sure to cause a very deep dent in the generations to come. From that, I built on it, and somehow, amidst being very drunk one night, wrote this.

Lucius Malfoy thought that he'd suffered enough. He thought subjecting his family to the likes of _He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named_ was enough. He thought being sent to Azkaban (though not for long) was enough. He thought losing the trust of so many of his closest friends was enough.

But the war was the last turning point, just enough to prove to Lucius that there would never be a feasible amount of suffering in his life.

The newspapers came in all at once, 'The Daily Prophet', 'Divination Weekly', 'The Quibbler'; they all recapped on the same exact material.

The war was treacherous indeed. It had taken the lives of more than 30% of the British wizard population, and the first war before that was too soon for any growth to be made. It was all over the news, the wizard population was going to die out.  No amount of cross-European breeding could fix it. Even when you thought you were safe, you were not. It was too late to mend what had since been broken. If a change was not implemented soon, then there would be no more wizards and witches left. It would end with them and the culture would be lost forever–plunged into the abyss. There would be no need for Hogwarts, and the society would become a barren ghost land in no time flat.

Finally the ministry, newly reformed and oozing with level-headed authority, revealed its master plan, bright and bold across the top of all the front pages.

_'New marriage laws passed in England'_

Every eligible wizard and witch that was fertile was obligated by law, to reproduce at least once.

Lucius would not have seen any issue, as he was still fertile (and itching for release (that was beside the point)), but the problem was that his wife was too old to bear any children. As far as he knew, Narcissa had long reached the point of menopause, and no longer could she reproduce. And that, was precisely the issue. They could not stay married. Lucius had lost most of his power when his connection to the dark lord was brought to light. He could no longer influence the decision of others. The Malfoy name meant close to nothing to most of the developed wizarding world... and there was nothing he could do about it. They'd fallen from grace in a similar sense to the angel Lucifer.

The letters were delivered by a Ministry of Magic owl the following evening to each wizard family across all of England. Some came for Lucius and Narcissa individually. He received one, but his wife received two. He knew that she was in no real mood to talk, especially not when her impending fate rested in the contents of the stuffy, conservative-esque ministry letters.

He took a deep breath and opened the envelope. It was not half as bad as he assumed it would be–until it was.

It denoted that they knew of his fertility and he could not hide it. It went on to explain the legal divorce between him and his wife, because of her infertility.

And at the bottom, was a single name of a woman whom he was bound by oath to marry and reproduce with, because they did not see Lucius fit to find someone on his own (to this he scoffed, but knew it to be true).

If all families were going through a similar situation, then it may not have been too overly-severe... the problem was simply that he'd heard her name before—and it was from Draco.

_And after all, Allura Langdon was a girl who had fought alongside Harry Potter against the man who Lucius once called 'lord'._

 

* * *

 

He met her formally on the first of September, and realized with a heavy heart that he did indeed know her. She was no less a girl in his eyes, because she had graduated from Hogwarts the same year as his son—who was also fertile and bound to another woman as it stood.

She was tending to the needs of a small cat, holding her hand out as it stroked itself along her wrist. She had no expression, at least not one that Lucius could describe, on her face. He wondered vaguely if she was thinking about meeting the man she was to marry, by orders of the ministry. He'd have done the same, had he been in her position. Law was not a thing so easily trifled with.

The wind picked up, just strong enough that she was forced to tuck a lock of her long brown hair behind her ear. A smile tugged on the edge of her lips when the cat purred, but she let it drop, in favour of remaining expressionless.

Lucius watched her every move, too stunned and rendered immobile. It was miraculous how war changed everyone. Similar to Draco, she had sobered up and become far more mature than her age would denote. No twenty year old, who should have been furthering their wizard education would ever be so accepting of their situation.

She looked up, and caught sight of him beyond the throng of other witches and wizards. The village was no longer lively; a foreboding hush had fallen upon any and all occupants as their living situations changed. Nobody could fight anything, lest they want a tryst at Azkaban _and_ their wizard population to die.

The cat scampered away, and she stood, brushed the dust off from her skirt and approached him. Lucius, despite having faced the wrath of the Cruciatus so many times, felt like running away. He was a grown man... and he wanted to run. But his legs would not allow him that liberty today, so he hadn't a choice but to stay put.

"Lucius Malfoy, correct?" Her voice was soft but didn't waver in the least. He managed to nod, because he didn't know if his own voice would betray him. "Allura Langdon." It took him a few moments to realize that she had extended her hand towards him and he hurriedly reached out his own. "I was, _well_ , in Slytherin alongside Draco."

Lucius remembered. She had been a player for the house quidditch team, but shortly after fifth year, dropped out. Draco had told him all about her. He said she was a pure-blood, though she wasn't noble; but she was an exceptional witch and often picked verbal fights with him when she deemed him to be acting insufferable. If Lucius knew no better, he'd think his son was infatuated with her, and he could see why.

Her eyes had a certain warmth; a fire, that was found more often in the Gryffindor house. It was no surprise that she'd have put Draco to his place on more than one occasions, and he could only imagine how he took that. Lucius bit back his urge to laugh, as he asked her how she was.

"I'm quite alright." She had a formal manner of speech, but he could only assume that to be because he was a stranger. "I was simply a bit weary to meet–" She paused, seemingly searching for the right words that would not offend him. "–someone new."

He wondered if she was going to say 'a death eater'. That would have been fine. It was something he could not run from, nor was he going to. All he could do now, was accept his fate and make nice with this girl. And he was going to. For both their sakes.

 

* * *

 

She moved into his manor the following week. She owned an apartment in Yorkshire, the most popular place for new wizard couples as they got together, but Lucius's home was far larger and far more vacant than he'd like it to be. She hadn't put up much of a fight to leave her home, rather looking forward to the spacey estate that Lucius took care of.

Narcissa had since moved out, the divorce finalized, to one of the many other Malfoy investments–a villa somewhere in Durham. He did not wish to leave his wife whom had been with him through thick and thin, but the law forced him to do so–and his sexual needs had gone unmet for quite some time as well.

Since Narcissa had succumbed to menopause, she no longer had any appetite for sex. Lucius wondered how long it had been. Six, seven years? He hadn't been gratified sexually since Draco went off to Hogwarts, at the very least. Narcissa had fallen prey to being a full-time mother, before being a woman; but Lucius, hadn't (become a full-time father, that is). He still longed for the touch of someone–in particular a woman, no matter what rumours swirled about him 'chasing for the same team'.

Draco had moved out to live with the woman he was bound to. He hadn't found himself a woman in the few years after the war, and was subsequently paired with one. Lucius heard from him a few days ago, through a letter he had sent. He sounded to be doing just swimmingly, and Lucius couldn't help but feel as though Draco was relieved to have been manually paired with someone. During his time in Hogwarts, he hadn't been the easiest boy to deal with, and for that, Lucius feared no woman would want him.

Allura stepped into his doorway and into view, under the soft light of his flickering blue candles. She was wearing another short, black skirt–and he was beginning to understand she had a fixation for them. Well, it was better a skirt than a fixation for god-awful sunglasses, like the women who fancied him in HIS time at Hogwarts. "I wanted to say goodnight before I retire to bed." She said quietly.

He stood from his desk, laden with various paperwork, and walked towards her. Before, she had flinched away an awful lot; but after a few short days of living alongside him in a home, she grew out of the habit that he took offense to. "Goodnight, Allura."

He felt the urge to press his lips against the top of her head, smoothen her hair and whisper that she had nothing to fear–but he knew that would be doing more harm than good. He wanted to marry her (in the near future because the law stated so) with genuine trust built between the two of them, and until Lucius saw that happening, he would not touch her. He would not be the one to thieve her of her innocence, far beyond her time and far before she was ready.

Her emerald-coloured eyes flickered back up to him, "Goodnight, Lucius." Something in her tone gave away that she was amused, or perhaps irritated. He could never tell, especially not with women like her. Lucius preferred the old days when he'd have no trouble making moves. She left his study, and his eyes followed her hips as she walked away, down the corridor to the room he'd given her to herself. It wasn't Narcissa's personal room, thank goodness, but a guest suite which had rarely been rented out.

Lucius sighed, and turned around to his desk. Halfway there, he caught sight of the many wines and rums hidden inside the curio on the left. He switched gears and went straight for the brandy.

It was going to be a _long_ night.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, they arrived for breakfast separately but curiously, at the same time, only to see an owl perched on the table, numerous letters strewn about haphazardly. It had caught a rat and was eating lazily, without a single care in the world. "This isn't my owl." Lucius frowned. His birds were all purebred and trained, not the least bit unruly as this one.

"No... But it's mine." She coughed into her fist. Their eyes connected and she smiled, despite feeling quite sheepish and embarrassed by her ruddy owl's behaviour. "Circe, this is quite rude, even for you." She scolded her owl, not harsh yet not too playful.

She extended her hand, gesturing to the last letter clenched tightly in the bird's talons. She could see her name written on it. Circe tilted her head—

_And placed the half-eaten rat into Allura's outstretched palm._

Lucius had rarely laughed, but even he found it hard to remain composed when Allura was subject to humiliation by her own owl. It was slow, but he felt like they were making better progress in understanding one another.

 

* * *

 

It didn't take long before he uncovered one of her many hidden talents. He walked by the sitting room, after realizing with horror that he was out of his favourite rum, and found her playing the piano that had been a gift from another pureblooded family years ago. He'd never bothered to learn how to play, nor did he ever make Draco, and it had always remained purely decorative. Besides, what good were muggle instruments?

Evidently... _very_.

She was playing a song he did not know, but he couldn't deny that it had an ethereal and almost unworldly quality when played on a piano. Her style was wispy, a bit teasing, as she ghosted her fingers across the keys. It appeared like it would make no sound, but it did and it was mesmerizing.

He soon found himself standing in the doorway, despite his impatience for more brandy, listening to her play as though she hadn't noticed his arrival. He was entranced, specifically by the manner in which she performed.

It wasn't until the piece grew to its end that words were spoken. "Did you like it?" She murmured, just loud enough that he heard.

Lucius couldn't find the words that accurately described the allure of her performance. "Yes." He said, taking notice of the way she looked up at him expectantly and yet again tucked a lock of her behind her ear. "It was beautiful." She. _She_ was beautiful. But he didn't know if he could ever quite say those words without feeling flustered.

Lucius so desperately wanted to undo her braid, run his fingers through her hair and kiss her slowly and meaningfully... But he couldn't. Not yet. Not until she was ready.

"Thank you." There it was again. He couldn't differentiate it from irritation or amusement. She stood up from the piano and gave him a smile. "I crave some wine. Join me?"

Lucius nodded, and she began to walk ahead. His eyes strayed to the black skirt she donned and the pale skin peeking out from her knee-high stockings. He felt the familiar warmth in his abdomen and began to walk in step with her. 

Brandy. Brandy was _definitely_ needed. 

 

* * *

 

"I may be a bit late." He'd told her, suggesting she not wait for his return, while he went on a trip to the ministry. He had business that he had to briefly attend to, but because it was far, he had no way to measure how long he would leave her in the mansion alone. She'd bid him goodbye, and he'd wanted to kiss her—But he held himself back and left in a hurry, not wanting her to ever see him in a state of panic.

The time had long stretched into midnight when Lucius saw his mansion swing into view. He hadn't traveled by carriage in quite some time, but he had insisted on returning home, no matter the hour. For whatever reason, the Floo network was down (how that was possible, he didn't know), and he could not travel in his preferred way. Despite the insistence that he stay in a lovely hotel for the night (complimentary as well), Lucius was adamant on returning to his manor.

After all, he didn't know how Allura would make out with him gone. The Malfoy home was dreadfully quiet when there was hardly a person around at night. At least, he assumed so. Lucius always had at least _someone_ in the castle with him, and had never felt the brunt of silence. The house elves were always working, and surely that was enough.

He unlocked his door, and marveled at how dark it truly was when no candles were lit. The elves whom _willingly_ worked there (now, anyways) had retired for the night. It was something Allura had strongly insisted on, and he accepted. Eventually.

From what she told him, her family's estate (a chateau) employed house elves, rather than enslave them. As a result, she brought most of her respect for their aid to his manor.

He loosened the black tie from his neck and exhaled. He really needed alcohol in his system to drown out the events of the day. But he rather liked sleep, and being hungover was bad for his health (and hair). Plus, if he was frustrated by the morning, he'd miss the way she smiled so brightly when she'd see him again. So he fought the urge...  and then noticed Allura there. He approached where she lay on the sofa and almost smiled. There was a reason he'd been so bent on coming back, and it was entirely her.

Despite his words, she'd waited. And waited and _waited_ , until she finally succumbed to her need to sleep. It was a move expectant of a child, though he knew she wanted to be seen as an adult, at least by him. But she made it so hard when she pulled stunts like these. He leaned towards her, urging her to wake up, but she refused and attached herself firmly to his neck.

He sighed, and slipped his arms under her legs, effortlessly lifting her. She murmured something that sounded an awful lot like _'Welcome home, Luci'_ and as he took her back to her room for the night, finally began to feel the weight of the silence that he had left her immersed in. It was simply too much for one person to bear alone.

Yes... his home was with her, and the guilt he felt for leaving her was immeasurable.

Lucius didn't want to leave her in the silence ever again.

 

* * *

 

"Lucius?" She greeted him a few mornings later with a smile. "A letter arrived–from Draco." She waved a pristine white envelope in his direction as he sipped his coffee and ushered her forward. She took a seat beside him and slid her chair closer, "What are you reading?"

"A novel I found." He didn't know if he wanted to say it was from his ex-wife. He'd confessed to her through mail that he was hesitant to pursue Allura with as much vigor as he had done with her–but back then, Lucius was young and bold (and obligated by his family). Instead of a thoughtful letter, Narcissa sent him a novel on building relationships. It was all a load of rubbish, in his eyes. He'd done all this, and then more. Still, it was an interesting read, despite the excessively sentimental material.

He cautiously looked up from behind the pages and noticed Allura as she petted and showered the owl in affection. It certainly was a better owl than hers. For the moment, Lucius was proud. Until he realized that she gave the owl more love than him.

Then he became envious. He met eyes with the owl and gestured for it to leave. _Now_. It instantly looked away... But eventually flew off, through the same window it had flown through before.

"Oh, he left." She pouted, seemingly sad, "I was going to feed him."

"I'm sure Draco must have." No, no he wasn't. He was sure Allura wouldn't settle for that either.

She sighed, "I suppose next time will do." She shifted her eyes to him and smiled. He did the same. "I'm going to have a bath." She stood and waited for a moment. Lucius managed to nod, and she seemed to roll her eyes before turning away to leave. His gaze followed her all the way until she turned the corner and left down that winding corridor.

 _Merlin_. He wished he could have joined her. He wanted to kiss her neck and bite her supple skin through the heat of the water. He wanted to tease her with his fingers until she begged him for release—but he _couldn't_. She wasn't ready.

Lucius heard the sounds of the pipes turning on. He imagined her as she stripped from her tight-fit clothing. He imagined her potential disappointment as she slipped into the tub all alone.

He got up–and diluted his coffee with firewhisky. Perhaps he had to peruse the novel a bit more thoroughly...

 

* * *

 

Lucius bid goodnight to Allura, late into the evening when the elves had gone to rest. He paused, taking notice of her sleek black dress (she'd stepped up from the skirt) and the way it formed against each and every one of her curves, and he almost forgot what else he wanted to say.

She was dramatically more different than his wife. Allura, though young and picky with her meals, did not have an issue with her weight. In terms of the other women her age, she was not bony, nor was she overweight. She genuinely had curves. In any case, Lucius could appreciate each and every bit of her. He wanted to have all of her–body and soul–as soon as possible. But his unwillingness to corrupt her was stunting his process.

She'd given him a seemingly playful 'goodnight' back, before swirling her wine in her glass and then downing the last of it. She held his gaze for a few seconds before he broke away forcefully, unsure when his self-control would snap.

He wished he could have stolen the last of her blood red wine, before aggressively leading her down the corridor and ravishing her against his door before they could even make it to his bed.

But he wouldn't. It took him a second to realize that he very well could, if he wanted—and he decided he would not. He would not use his age to his advantage, and play on her naivety. That wasn't in his nature any longer. It would pain many of his acquaintances to know that he had such a firm refusal to damage her innocence, however Lucius could care less.

He'd gone to his room, dressed down to a pair of black trousers, and collapsed into his comfortable sheets. However, he did not sleep. Not for a while. He heard her walk down the corridor and go to her room, he heard her close her doors and then it was silent.

His fingers twitched at the waistband of his pants. He wanted to alleviate his frustration (the sexual kind), but despite how his head buzzed with the intake of alcohol, he couldn't bring himself to go any further.

Lucius couldn't even tell how much time had passed since he'd laid there. It was such a quiet night, perfect by any means, yet he could not succumb to slumber. Eventually, after tossing and turning (physically, and ideas in his head), his eyes began to flutter close.

If only fate would let him.

Suddenly, there was a scream. He could tell right away that it was Allura, because nobody else was in the manor and her voice was distinguishable to his ears.

He left his room that same moment, and hurried down the corridor to hers. Her candle was blown out, and it took a mere moment for him to command it back on, a simple non-verbal spell that he knew by heart.

He was by her side quicker than he'd ever managed to be, quietly coaxing her into speaking.

She buried her head in her hands, frantically whispering the word ' _no_ '. It was a nightmare. She'd had a nightmare. Lucius could tell so immediately. He relaxed, just a bit more, as he too, knew of the frustration nightmares could bring.

It had been his first instinct to assume she'd been harmed. The Malfoy residence had been less secure than ever since the war was over. People loathed them, and often relayed their hate physically.

When she'd stopped crying enough to form coherent phrases, Lucius spoke, "It was only a nightmare, Allura."

She grasped his hands tight, "It was more than-it... _I_ -" She brought his palm to her chest, and he was momentarily surprised by the rapid beating of her heart. "Why does it feel like I am about to burst?"

He thought back to the nightmares he'd wake from when in Azkaban. They were seldom kind, always an eerie reminder of what he'd done to deserve his fate, and it made his chest burn. Most times he was filled with self-deprecation, and the uncomfortable feelings always lingered, both among the prison as well as to this day. 

Allura went quiet, her mouth poised to say something, but she did not. He wanted to hold her close, caress her until she no longer felt any fear, and tell her everything she wanted to hear... But it would not be doing her any good. Lucius had to aid her in shaking her nightmares away, but she had to do the heavy lifting. In this case, talking. So, he waited.

"I had a... friend, when I was in Hogwarts." She murmured, "We met through quidditch and he was from the house that all Slytherins looked down upon."

Lucius briefly thought back to when he was a Slytherin. Back then, Gryffindors were still rivals with Slytherin. Ravenclaws and their neutral natures had never posed a problem, and they never would. She must have meant Hufflepuffs.

"Regardless... he played the part of my best friend. My relationship with my house was never too kind, and only grew worst when they'd found out I was on such good terms with a Hufflepuff boy." She scowled, as if bringing up horrible memories, "I loved him dearly, and could never tell him due to my own pride. Back then, I really was irritating."

She shook her head, and let Lucius's hand drop from her steady heart. He went to retract the appendage, but her grip was simply too strong to say she wished to let him go.

"But, then he was chosen as the champion for Hogwarts, in the Triwizard tournament." Allura's tone grew hoarse, as she choked through tears, " _He **died**._ "

Lucius tried not to let his surprise show. He knew exactly who she was talking about. That boy's death had shaken the entire Wizarding world. It was the unofficial start of the war, the tip of the iceberg, the stick that broke the camel's back.

He was there when Cedric Diggory had been murdered in that graveyard, too. 

"I lost him that year, due to my own stupidity, and my stubborn refusal to tell him I loved him." She whispered, "It wouldn't be the first time the memory has worn me down like this. It's been almost six years and every so often, it returns to haunt me. I... never got to tell him."

He tried to let his jealousy go. Of course. She would have been no younger than fourteen back then, it was no surprise she'd have been battling with the topic of boys. He just never expected that the death that shook her to the core would be linked right back to a death eater. Like him.

"I'm sorry, Lucius." Allura told him, lacing her fingers through his. "I truly wanted you to see me as a woman, and not this childish, broken... _mess_."

"You're _not_ a mess." He said firmly, "We all encounter nightmares and go through traumatic experiences." If only she knew that she was stronger than most because she could talk about it.

"I just–"

"Allura, my mental strength is incomparable to yours." Lucius replied, squeezing her hand back. He allowed this. He could touch her here, but nowhere else. "So, do be easier on yourself." He thought she'd calmed down enough to go back to sleep.

"Wait, um, before you leave." She gestured him closer, and the moment he leaned his face to hers, she kissed his cheek. "Thank you... for everything."

"You're welcome." He told her, albeit hesitantly. The warmth exploding from his cheek where her lips had touched him was searing. He paused, "Do you perhaps... need a potion?"

"Dreamless sleep?"

"Yes. I happen to have a surplus." He admitted. It was no lie. Unfortunately, he had bought it in bulk the moment he had begun feeling symptoms of PTSD. He didn't know if it could quite be considered post-traumatic stress disorder, but it certainly triggered unfavourable memories.

Allura nodded, swinging her legs over the side of her bed to join him on a quest for the potion. In any case, Lucius wanted an excuse to stay near her—and evidently, she wanted the same. 

 

* * *

 

The moment Lucius received the letter was the moment everything began to change. Narcissa had sent a letter through an owl that he'd personally trained for years. How it was there instead of with him, Lucius would never know, but the letter had come to him early in the morning.

Allura walked into the dining room. She filled herself a cup of coffee, and after yawning, said to him, "Good morning, Lucius."

He managed a reply of his own before he tore into the letter, wondering what lay inside. Narcissa always had a penchant for writing beautifully thought out letters. It started off okay. She sent her regards, asked about Allura—and then she said _it_.

She was getting _remarried_. To a man who she had dated in Hogwarts, who was infertile… Like her. Lucius tightened his hands over the letter, creasing the smooth edges. He recognized the name of the man, but that was besides the point. 

He realized he was the only one being left behind. He was still hung up over his ex-wife. But it hadn't taken her very long to get over him. Lucius realized what a fool he had been, for so long, and felt deep sorrow for his treatment of Allura. Had she wanted him to move on quickly? Did she want him to finally begin to see her in a new light?

He looked at her, and noticed her staring with rapt attention at his hands. "Are you okay?" She asked him, not out of formality, but genuine concern.

Lucius immediately folded the letter and put it back into its envelope. He nodded, hoping she would not be able to see his distress. "Yes." He said, "Don't worry."

But her eyebrows drew together. And Lucius knew that she was, for a fact, quite worried.

 

* * *

 

He remained in his study for quite some time. His staff came and went, mumbling to one another about Allura and her melodic piano playing, or her curiosity with Lucius's trained owls, or her attachment to the albino peacock, Niveus, outside–but nothing made him want to leave and seek her out because he didn't think that she could appease the feelings he was experiencing.

Why. Why was Narcissa leaving him _already_? The divorce had been just a formality. He thought that she knew his love for her would have always outlasted any. They had been married for over twenty years, and... She was ending it with a new marriage, a few short months later.

He wondered if it meant anything at all. Was he the only one who was bothered by this? Evidently, he needed to reform his plans on courting Allura the correct way. He wanted to remain the perfect gentlemen, because she was just too young for him to not feel guilty over impregnating in the future.

Lucius sighed, and dipped his quill in ink to begin writing a return letter to Narcissa. He had to say _something_. But no matter how he tried, it just wouldn't flow out of him, the bitterness was just too much.

Draco most likely knew. He was probably getting ready to have a wedding of his own, because his romance with his woman, Astoria, was peaking.

That left Lucius in the dust. He didn't know if he'd ever make a move on Allura. He wanted to. He really did. Often times, he'd stay awake, hot and feverish, at the thought of her supple skin and flirty laugh, or the way she always seemed to do the most adorable things in the least odd ways. He really felt like he was back in 1972 sometimes. 

Lucius had always though himself to be strictly into sexier things. But since the arrival of Allura, he'd traded dark lace and fishnet for frills and ruffles. It wasn't a change that was bothering him, but he knew it was bound to if he thought on it too long. She often countered her fetish for frills with the colour black, and it gave her a balance that only made Lucius more dizzy. 

There was a knock on his door. He threw back a shot of rum and announced "Enter." Probably another elf. The door opened.

Oh. _Or not._

"Lucius?" Allura peered at him hesitantly. He motioned for her to enter, and she closed the door behind her before standing before him awkwardly. "I don't... well–"

"You don't think I'm as fine like I said?"

She shook her head, her words being spoken by him instead. It seemed to be a bit of a relief for her, but she tried to say more, "Do you, um, want to talk?"

Yes. He shook his head instead. It was a burden he was going to take on himself. He wasn't going to weigh her down with his own troubles. "Allura–"

"You're not okay all." She mumbled, biting her lip. "I have rarely dated, much less endured a spouse–but I still want you to be able to tell me anything." Allura walked closer to him, almost bending to meet his gaze. " _Please_ , Lucius. Don't shut me out before we even marry."

That's right. They WOULD be married. He realized that there was still time for him to let her know. He smiled, and touched her wrist gently. He wrapped his fingers around her smaller hand hesitantly. When she didn't shy away, he took it as silent consent and tugged her closer. "Allura," He said softly, "You are kinder than I deserve." He pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, and she frowned. 

"You don't give yourself enough credit. You've changed, in many ways, even if you can't see it yourself." She whispered, pausing as if unwilling to continue. "You deserve _much_ more than just my kindness." Allura knelt on either side of his legs and gently lowered herself in his lap. For his sake, he hoped that she'd ignored the way he jolted at her touch. She wrapped her arms around his neck. It was no different than that night, he thought, but in no way could he tell her about that. There was no guarantee she even remembered. Allura buried her nose in his hair, "I really... do love you. I just wish you liked _me_ , even a little bit."

But, he did. He loved her more than he should have after only a few short months. Just her skirt was enough to send his emotions into a state of disarray. Just her smile was enough to throw him off for longer than it should. He laid his hands on her waist tentatively, "I _do_ love you, Allura."

"Then, be a bit more selfish, will you?" She bestowed a tiny kiss to his neck, and it took every inch of his control to not shiver in reply to her feather-light touch. "When you refuse to touch me, it makes me feel like you don't want me at all."

If that wasn't the understatement of the century, Lucius did not know what was. All he wanted was to know every expression she could make. Every noise she could emit. He wanted it all. But, it was best to take it slow. "Do you want me to try... _tonight_?" He was only teasing her and she shifted in his embrace, letting out a huffed 'finally!' He tried not to let his surprise show.

She exhaled and pulled away, leaning her forehead against his and trusting he would support her body in his much larger frame. "Please."

He nodded, cupping her chin in his hand, as gently as possible. "I will hold you to that."

Allura scoffed, "I'm not a doll, Lucius." She ran her hands through his platinum blond hair, before settling for the feverish nape of his neck. She smiled, "I believe you owe me an apology for taking _so_ long to reciprocate my love."

"Let me make it up to you instead." He whispered, and finally (after much back and forth internal debate) kissed her.

Lucius may not have been able to undo his past, nor atone for all his sins and be done with it–but he was going to make it better, starting with Allura. He was going to treat her as she deserved, the way she wanted him to, no matter what he'd have done in the past.

 

She deserved the world _—and that was what he'd give her._


End file.
